Early Enough
by evening spirit
Summary: What if the events of T.R.A.C.K.S. played out a little differently? A Grant Ward story, with the whole team in supporting roles.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **What if the events of T.R.A.C.K.S. played out a little differently? A Grant Ward story.

What if Coulson's team got to Quinn's mansion a little earlier? And a few other differences, like the layout of the basement of the mansion. That's irrelevant. What matters is that Grant Ward is given a choice at a moment when he is capable of making one.

* * *

**Early Enough**

**Chapter One**

* * *

_"There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk."  
_**~ Guy Gavriel Kay, _Tigana_**

* * *

"May, you go 'round back, Ward, through the basement. I take the front entrance," Coulson issued his orders. "FitzSimmons, you stay put, hear me?"

The science duo nodded.

May was already trotting around the building and Ward hurried down to the door Coulson pointed. Focus. He needed to focus.

If the job was easy it wouldn't be any fun, he kept repeating, like a mantra. Those jobs where Coulson's team crossed paths with Centipede were especially not-easy, though. Ward wished Garrett had at least given him some hints about what he intended to do, what his plan was. He wouldn't be going in completely blind.

"Integrate," Garrett had said when they'd last spoken, two weeks ago. Coulson had been recovering from his kidnapping. Garrett had been pissed that the elaborate plot to squeeze information out of him brought no results whatsoever. Coulson hadn't remembered anything about his resurrection. But then Garrett had said he had a new plan. A better plan. "You stay with them," he had ordered. "Be Coulson's good soldier boy. That's all I need from you."

So Grant tried to play for Coulson's team. It wasn't without a hitch. After he'd sneaked out yesterday, to get to one of Garrett's drop-boxes and leave a message about Coulson being on trail of some Cybertek / Quinn transaction, May had intercepted him in the cargo-bay. He had joked about being restless before an op, it being undercover and all and she had bought it, albeit reluctantly. Then she'd asked him if he'd worked undercover a lot and he'd almost laughed at the irony of it. He had told her the truth about Warsaw, five years ago. Stay as close to the truth as you dare – was one of rules of deep cover job. Then you'll never mix up irrelevant details. Be as much yourself as you can be.

And believe in your cover.

Grant believed. On the train he had fought the mercenaries hired by Cybertek – had fought against Garrett. He had tried to warn Coulson, had sincerely promised Simmons that he would be back for her and Fitz and Skye. He'd felt enraged that May had been abused. But he had also been anxious about May confiding in Coulson on their affair and later about her allowing the boss to patch her up. Their easy camaraderie was worrisome. May trusted Coulson without hesitation and he believed in her, would do anything to protect her, even if she didn't need protection. If push came to shove, whatever Ward had tried to build with May through their non-relationship, wouldn't mean a thing to her.

He caught himself dropping out of character. He was analyzing things too much, worried too much. It was understandable – he didn't want to jeopardize Garrett's plans. His orders were clear though. Stay undercover. Stay with the team. Garrett knew what he was doing. He needed Ward to trust him. And Ward trusted him infinitely. More than May trusted Coulson. He inhaled a lungful of air and exhaled slowly, to get himself back in the game.

In order to fulfill his mentor's orders now, he needed to follow Coulson's orders like the good soldier that he was. He quietly opened the door and entered the low-ceilinged corridor. He had to squat a little but he moved ahead without a problem. The corridor was murky, with only a little light coming from up ahead. After a few more steps Ward neared an L-section with a staircase and noticed half-open wooden door in the corner opposite from the stairs.

He heard voices.

"If I wanted you to..." male voice spoke and hesitated. "To hurt her. You know, kill... Will you?" Ward knew that voice but he couldn't quite place it. Who was this man? Who was he talking to? And who was he talking about? "I mean, what would hurt Coulson more than to lose his pet project?"

"Those aren't my orders," responded another male voice and Ward's mind conjured an image of Mike Peterson. But Peterson was dead, wasn't he? "She's not who I'm supposed to kill." The man finished and Ward heard the sound of heavy steps and some hydraulics.

He plastered himself against the wall in the shadow next to the door. Clad in black, he hoped whoever that was, wouldn't notice him.

He was lucky. The man – it was Mike Peterson – was so absorbed with whatever goal he had, that he stormed past him and up the staircase so quick, Ward only fleetingly noticed the metallic leg and burned skin.

Then he heard Skye's voice yelling, "Wait!" and "What the hell did you do to him?" And a gunshot.

He reacted quicker than he could think.

He pushed the door fully open, located the gun first, then saw it held by a man and recognized this man as Ian Quinn. Quinn was the enemy. His gun was a direct threat to his ally, Skye. Quinn needed to be neutralized. Ward fired straight into the man's heart, then bettered with an immediate shot to the head.

The observe-orient-decide-act loop took him less than a heartbeat and his heart was beating really fast now.

"Skye?" He was at her side in the next instant and saw her clutching her stomach.

"He shot me," she whispered disbelievingly and glanced up at him. "It doesn't hurt, you know."

"No, it doesn't." Ward knew the pain took a while to register.

"But I feel weak," Skye added.

"Yeah, you do." He supported her and listened as the commotion erupted upstairs. He should be there, helping Coulson and May. But he couldn't leave Skye either.

Another quick decision and he lifted her in his arm, gently, because she hissed, and ran back down the corridor and outside. Put her on her feet for a moment, before opening the door a crack. Then wider. There was no one in vicinity. He picked her up again and crossed the few steps of open space between the building and the car where Fitz and Simmons were hiding.

"Take care of her," he ordered and was on the move right away.

This time he ran for the main entrance. In the corner of his eye he saw Mike Peterson jump out of the window at the side of the building and head for the thujas. When he got inside, Coulson and May were standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by dead bodies.

"You weren't fooling around," he noted, wide eyed.

"It wasn't all us." Coulson shrugged, even more astounded than Ward. "It was Mike Peterson. But he was... weird."

"I saw him. We'll talk about it later. Right now we gotta move. Skye has been shot and it would be best if we got her somewhere safe."

"Quinn?"

"He's dead."

In the end Coulson ordered Ward and May to stay behind and secure as much evidence as they could before the scene processing unit of SHIELD arrived. He, along with Fitz and Simmons hurried to get Skye back onto the plane. When the SHIELD people got there, along came the message that Coulson was taking Skye on the bus to a clinic in Zurich.

"Simmons is optimistic," May told Grant, as she hung up. "Skye's gonna be fine, but she needs a better medical care than what can be provided on a Mobile Command Station. We're gonna have to find our own way to Switzerland."

"We'll do," Ward responded, feeling as if a heavy burden lifted from his chest. He didn't even realize how much he worried about his rookie. She was so full of life, it was hard to imagine her on the brink of death.

* * *

Grant and May arrived at the clinic in Zurich seven hours later. It was night already but Coulson, Fitz and Simmons were up, waiting for news form the doctor.

"She was out of the surgery half an hour ago," Simmons told them as they sat in the waiting area. "All was fine, the bullet didn't perforate her entrails or stomach. It went clean through her liver and liver regenerates. It will take a while but it will heal. Then it lodged in the muscle right above her right kidney. All in all, Skye was extremely lucky."

"She was even more lucky that you were there," added Fitz, handing Ward a cup of hot black coffee. "One sugar, just the way you like it." He smiled with pride.

"You did a great job there, Ward." Coulson was smiling too. They were all surrounding him like he was their greatest hero and Ward felt as close to happiness as he dared.

He wasn't happy that they appreciated him, of course. He didn't care if they praised his actions, his valor and nerve. He wasn't even happy that Skye, his protégé, his bubbly rookie, would be back to her bubbly self within weeks. Well, maybe a little, he cared. He was supposed to care after all, a little bit, he was supposed to be one of them. He was one of them – and that's why he was happy, because months of his undercover job were finally beginning to pay off. He was even able to smile at Fitz and not get all tense at his affectionate back-rubbing. Strange, because he didn't feel too crowded either, when Simmons sat on the arm of the chair he occupied and talked about how she had tried to stop the bleeding and how terrified she had been, how she'd thought Skye'd been going to die, she had been so pale and faint and lifeless. But everything ended well, and here she was, Jemma Simmons, gesticulating and laughing and she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. Would they? – next to him. And it felt alright.

"We're most likely gonna stay here all night," Coulson agreed. "The doctor should allow us to see Skye any moment."

It took a little longer, nearly half an hour more but they were finally allowed to go into her room, one by one, two minutes each, the others watching through a huge window from the corridor outside. She was asleep of course, but it was a relief to touch her warm skin, to feel her pulse under his fingers. He saved her. He kept his promise to her – to train her and to make sure she didn't end up dead before she learned to protect herself.

In the morning Garrett arrived.

"I spoke to him on the phone," Coulson explained to Ward as Garrett strolled toward them down the corridor. "Didn't tell you, because you were dozing off at the moment. Should have later but it slipped my mind, I'm sorry. Anyway, I hope it's a nice surprise." Coulson's smile was genuine.

Garrett's wasn't.

"Your former SO is going to help us track down Cybertek. He took over the investigation at Quinn's mansion."

Of course. Clever. Ward nodded with appreciation and only a hint of dread. Garrett was pissed with him, he could feel it in his bones. He screwed up, somehow, and there would be consequences.

"Heard your girl was shot. How is she?" Garrett shook Coulson's hand. He didn't even look at Ward.

"She's gonna be alright," Coulson beamed. "Quinn wasn't the best shot, obviously. Don't know why he wanted to kill her. Maybe she reminded him of his previous failure with gravitonium. Either way, he's not a threat anymore. Cybertek and Clairvoyant are. We need to find them, John."

"I'll do my best." If they only knew. If Coulson only knew who he was talking to. Garrett had it all mapped out and Ward couldn't stop feeling awe and pride for his mentor. "Can I speak with Ward for a minute?" Garrett asked in a voice that may have sounded friendly to someone unfamiliar with his ways, but it froze blood in Ward's veins. Awe and pride evaporated, replaced by a hollow cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Sure." Coulson nodded, patted Garrett's arm and walked away.

Garrett waited a few heartbeats, before he turned to his protege, let their eyes meet. When he deemed Coulson was far enough, he closed the distance between himself and Ward and affectionately put his arm around Ward's shoulders. Ward felt like he was on fire but he knew not to flinch. He made his lips form a smile instead. He heard Garrett's voice over the roar of blood in his ears.

"Was it you who shoot Quinn?"

"Yes."

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was following your orders. You told me to play Coulson's soldier," Ward replied automatically and only then thought that putting the blame on his mentor wasn't the best course of action.

"Shut up." Garrett looked around, making sure no one overheard. Ward hadn't noticed when he'd led them around the corner into an empty corridor. He kept on walking, pushing Ward with him. "You're such a failure, sometimes I wonder why I even bother."

"I'm sorry." Now Grant realized what that feeling in the pit of his stomach was. It was fear. He tried to explain, to apologize. "I know he was your associate. I should have remembered. But he was threatening Skye and I was supposed to be their protector..."

"Skye? You thought she was more important?" Garrett stopped, stepped away, his arm falling to his side. He glared at Ward with such disgust and hatred, Ward felt like the ultimate disappointment that he had always been.

"I was following your orders," he whimpered, like it could be an excuse.

"Were you?"

"To integrate with the team." Wrong and wrong again.

"I have a new order then."

Grant braved a look up at Garrett's face. If Garrett was going to trust him with more directions, then maybe there was hope for him yet. He waited and watched a predatory smile emerge on Garrett's face.

"You'll have to mess her up some more," he announced.

Ward didn't understand.

"Her- who?"

"Who, who? Are you really so dumb? Or maybe you care about her so much? Do you care about her?" Garrett furrowed his brows. "Is she a weakness?"

Ward's heart sped up again. "No," he breathed out, even though he still had no idea what Garrett was talking about. May? He didn't feel anything for May. Simmons? Skye? "Skye?" he whispered.

"Who else?" Garrett mocked. "She's Coulson's little pet project." Those were the words Quinn used. "He'd do anything to save her. Just remember not to kill her. She has to be beyond what's humanly possible to fix. That's a very thin line, Ward. Can you do that?"

Grant nodded. Of course he could. He knew enough about human body to inflict the exact level of pain to be beyond bearable but still survivable. He knew where to hit to kill instantly. And where to hit to make death longest and the most painful.

"I can do that," he said.

Garrett nodded and smiled, this time with delight.

"I knew I could count on you." He squeezed Ward's arm affectionately. "Remember. My life and my health is in your hands."

* * *

t.b.c.

**A/N: **No bashing of Grant Ward in the comments, please, I consider Ward-hate triggering, so spare me that


	2. Chapter 2

**Early Enough**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

_"If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading"_  
**~ Gautama Buddha**

* * *

Fitz went back to the bus but Jemma didn't think she would be able to fall asleep tonight, even though she was bone tired. Maybe later. Maybe in a few days, when the dust settled. Right now she still needed to know Skye's status at all times. She could still feel Skye's blood on her hands.

May and Coulson sat in the waiting area, talking quietly and May looked almost vulnerable. Although... the words "May" and "vulnerable" in one sentence didn't quite compute. Jemma didn't want to intrude so she stood up and walked down the corridor, to Skye's room.

She found Ward standing there, outside the window, arms folded on his chest, staring at his rookie. Jemma let out a quiet sigh as she thought that he had saved Skye's life. If he hadn't been there, if he had been even a minute later, it might all look entirely different. Skye would be dead, they would have lost her and, even though they hadn't known each other all that long, Jemma couldn't imagine losing this newly found friend. Hell, she couldn't imagine losing any of them, Coulson, May or Ward.

He looked so desolate, standing there, like all his world was falling to pieces. Or maybe Jemma herself felt that way, exhausted and restless? She needed some consolation. She thought Ward needed it too.

He didn't seem to notice as she approached. Jemma extended her hand in an attempt to reassure him, started saying some nonsensical words like "She's gonna be okay", but only managed a "she" when her fingers connected with his bicep in the slightest of touches and he spun to her, palms curled in fists, ready to strike.

She jumped back.

He froze mid-move.

Blinked a few times, struggling to recognize her.

"I'm... sorry," Jemma stuttered. "Didn't mean to frighten you."

Ward relaxed. Not much, just a notch. He wiped his face, then ruffled his hair, holding his head with both hands. Walked away a few paces, then returned. Looked at Skye again.

"She's gonna be okay, you know," Jemma, dumbfounded, finished her earlier thought.

"No, she's not," Ward replied immediately and in a voice so low, Jemma wasn't sure if she heard him right.

"Yes," she hurried. "Yes, she is. She's better already, her vitals are stable and she's only sleeping there, see? You may go in." Jemma thought that maybe he needed this reassurance, needed to feel for himself that Skye was alive, real. He kept shaking his head, his eyes glued to Skye's prone form. "You should go inside," Jemma insisted. "You may sit there, I'm sure the nurses wouldn't mind. Hold her hand. You know that human touch..." she hesitated, remembering how he jumped just now, when she touched him. She hadn't paid much attention to it before, but he had always kept his distance and Fitz's displays of affection had made him somewhat uncomfortable. "Human touch is a miracle drug, really," she finished gently, her hand hovering an inch away from his arm. Her instinct was telling her to connect, stroke, maybe even hold him, but she decided it wasn't the best idea. Instead she kept on prattling. "Research on comatose patients shows that even holding their hand leads to more stable body temperature, stronger vital signs and better tolerance of pain. It may have something to do with the polarization of skin, or exchanging the molecules. A kind of biochemical connection-"

"It's Buddy all over again," Ward cut in as if he didn't hear a word she said, lost in his own thoughts.

Jemma stood silent for a good few seconds, before she blurted, "She will live," because nothing else came to her mind.

Ward shook his head.

"Not if I-" his voice broke, a sob hitched in his chest. Then he squared his shoulders as if readying himself to jump out of a flying plane without a parachute and he breathed out, "Get Coulson here." His eyes were wide and he was hyperventilating.

"Coulson?" Jemma needed a confirmation, being somewhat alarmed by his uncharacteristic behavior and all.

"Shhh." He spun and put his hand on her mouth so fast she didn't even have the time to blink. His frantic eyes scanned the corridor, then he cast a quick glance behind his back and faced her again. "Don't," he whispered with chilling urgency. "Don't let anyone know, you hear me? Don't speak up. No one may know, only Coulson. Get him here as soon as you can, but you can't talk to anyone. Don't tell him it was me, either. Just... Just get him here. Quietly. Please." He released her.

Jemma nodded. She didn't move for a good while though. She didn't understand and she wanted to understand. What happened? What the hell was Ward talking about? Was Skye in danger?

Did someone still want to hurt Skye?

That thought finally forced her to break out of stupor. She would get answers later. Now the most important thing was to ensure Skye's safety. Coulson was the best person to provide security. Jemma walked back to the waiting area as fast as she could, trying not to look as if she was in a hurry at the same time and knowing she was failing on both accounts.

Coulson wasn't there. Only May.

"What happened?" The observant specialist narrowed her eyes at Jemma.

"Oh, nothing." The lie wasn't convincing at all. "I'm looking for Coulson."

May stood up, her gaze scrutinizing, dissecting and Jemma knew she stood no chance.

"It's Ward. He's outside Skye's room and he's acting... not right. He asked for Coulson to come and to not tell anyone, he was very adamant at me not telling anyone. And I just did. But I can trust you, can't I? Please don't tell him that I told you. Oh my God, I am not making any sense."

"Coulson went down to the cafeteria," May replied simply. "Go get him and I..." she cast a glance in a general direction of Skye's room. "I'll happen to wander near Skye's room. Inconspicuously."

* * *

Ward was indeed standing right outside Skye's room, leaning on the glass with both hands, his head hung low between his arms, clad in full assault gear, complete with bulletproof vest and all the pistols: night-night guns and real ones all the same. May was certain he had taken it off at some point during the night. Must have put them on again, but why? If all red flags in May's mind weren't raised already after Simmon's near-freak-out, they would have jump up right now.

May knew she walked quietly, stealthily, but Ward heard her nonetheless. His head snapped up and his eyes seized her. There was something wild in them, something she only saw once, when he had been under the influence of the Berzerker staff. She briefly wondered if she'd looked like this too, then, but banished the thought away. There was a more urgent question – why was he like this, now?

"You," Ward breathed out. Then he straightened up, his eyes swept the corridor up and down, scanning for threats, and he spoke in a low voice. "You'll work alright too. You can protect her, maybe even better." He grabbed May's arm, still not looking at her, but everywhere else at once. He still didn't raise his voice above a heated whisper. "You need to get her out of here."

"Why?" May gently removed her arm from his grip.

"She's in danger."

"From who? Quinn is dead."

Ward finally glared at her. She could see he was still in control, but barely. Like, the smallest push in the wrong direction would tear the veil of sanity and he would just become a raging beast.

"Quinn," he seethed, "wasn't acting on his own. He was following orders. From the Clairvoyant. And the Clairvoyant didn't achieve what he wanted."

"Which is what?"

"We don't have the time to chat about this!" Ward almost exploded. He pushed away from May, ran his hand through his hair, struggling to pull himself back together. Then he spoke in a much calmer, almost robotic voice. "You need to find a way to get her out of here, without..." he paused. Something choked him and he finished in a barely audible whisper, "without causing her more harm." He hid his face in his hands and shook his head, muttering something. Something that May couldn't quite understand but what sounded disturbingly like, "It's not gonna work."

May didn't say anything. She knew that she would stand guard right here and she would fight for the girl inside that room with every fiber of her being, if it came to that. But she needed Ward to tell her more, to give her the details of this danger Skye was in. Saying it was Clairvoyant and acting like there was no way out of it, wasn't satisfactory.

She heard footsteps echoing in the hospital corridor and she hoped it was Coulson. Even though she would never admit it openly, she needed his backup to deal with this mysterious danger, as well as with freaked out Ward. How did he learn about the Clairvoyant's plans for Skye anyway?

"What's going on?" Coulson demanded.

"Ward thinks we need to get Skye out of here." May replied first and when she saw Ward making no attempt to elaborate, she summarized his ... requests. Coulson glared at Ward for a while and finally pulled out his phone.

"I'll get Garrett to help us..."

Ward's reaction was so fast it startled even Melinda May. He grabbed Coulson's wrist, almost knocking the phone out of his hand, his face white like a mask, eyes crazy. "No." He uttered. "No one may know. No one except us."

"I need to get the med pod into the plane, Ward," Coulson replied calmly, not moving his hand. "I won't risk taking her without any kind of medical care."

Ward let go of Coulson's wrist and took a step back.

"Not Garrett," he mouthed.

Coulson nodded. "Who then?" he asked in all seriousness. "Sitwell?" Ward shook his head "Hand?"

"Hand, yeah, Hand is clear."

Coulson walked away, talking on the phone. Ward looked like he fought an urge to follow him, to listen in on the conversation, but he stayed. He kept pacing back and forth, like a caged puma. May wanted to know what was going on but she resorted to watching him, instead of right out asking.

She could gauge his mindset from the way he acted, she knew him well enough. Intimate relationship with the man had its benefits. Normally, he was difficult to read, closed off, keeping his distance. When he was physically naked, though, part of his soul would reveal itself too. It was only natural.

Agent Grant Ward appeared tough for any outside observer. A strong, self confident manly man. Coulson saw a potential leader in Ward, someone who would make hard calls, wouldn't hesitate under pressure. Partially May agreed with that assessment. With clear enough general goal he was that man. She saw beyond that, though. She saw that little things were a problem.

At first she'd taken over their intimate encounters, taken the lead, because that was what she had needed and Ward let her without protest. Then, one day, she had asked him if there was something he wanted to do and he was so completely flustered it would have been cute, if it hadn't been disturbing. She had felt, then, as if she hadn't been in bed with a real person, but with a dummy.

She hadn't really wondered why he was like that. Each of them had their demons, she wouldn't appreciate if he tried to fix her. Now, though, watching him fall apart in front of her eyes, looking at Jemma Simmons follow his every move with her eyes, rooted to the spot and worried, perhaps more than she worried for Skye, May wondered.

What did Garrett have to do with all this? Why such a violent reaction? May read Ward's file, she knew that Garrett recruited him straight out of the Academy. John Garrett had a keen eye for promising young cadets. From what she heard, he grabbed the grandson of one of the Howling Commandos recently. No wonder he had wanted Ward all those years ago. May had never liked Garrett very much. She'd respected the man, his efficiency was admirable, but understanding Coulson's affection for Garrett, their friendship, was a different thing altogether. 'He used to be different', Coulson would say. 'Before Serbia'. And then, May's life became divided too. Before Bahrain and after Bahrain. Then, part of her understood. Another part of her still didn't like Garrett's strange sense of humor, his vague air of superiority and condescending, misogynistic comments.

Ward was nothing like his former SO. He truly admired May's skills, and never made any stupid "despite you being a woman" comments. He had actually taken that gender equality thing to the extreme when he'd explained to her why he had taken that punch for her, way back when. His "don't flatter yourself" stung a little, although Melinda knew it shouldn't have; they were on a par. His fondness for the younger members of the team was genuine though, even if he appeared somewhat exasperated by their antics. He took his role as their protector very seriously. He was really terrified for Skye right now. It was all far removed from anything Melinda May knew about John Garrett. John Garrett was simply unable to care for another human being.

May wondered how someone like Ward could be under command of John Garrett for so long. It was close to five years now, wasn't it? It must have been how he was so good at following orders, following another person's lead, but it wasn't natural to him. Ward must have been relieved when the reassign order came and he had that opportunity to change the scenery.

He must have guessed something from Garrett's behavior now, that sent him into a tailspin.

Coulson finished talking and Ward turned to him, alert, expectant.

"We'll have the pod at the airport within an hour," the boss smiled lightly but it was no good for Ward.

"That's too long." He turned to stare at Skye through the glass.

"It's not." Coulson lay a hand on Ward's arm and Ward flinched, made an attempt to wriggle out from his grasp. Coulson ignored the reaction; squeezed him harder, if anything, grounded him. "Doctors need to prepare her anyway and we need to transport her from here to the airport. An hour is just fine."

* * *

t.b.c.

**A/N: **No bashing of Grant Ward in the comments, please, I consider Ward-hate triggering, so spare me that


	3. Chapter 3

**Early Enough**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

_"I believe in signs...what we need to learn is always there before us, we just have to look around us with respect and attention to discover where God is leading us and which step we should take. When we are on the right path, we follow the signs, and if we occasionally stumble, the Divine comes to our aid, preventing us from making mistakes." _  
**~Paulo Coelho, _The Zahir_**

* * *

Transporting Skye to the ambulance and then to the airport was not that hard. The med pod was already installed when they arrived, Fitz and the tech team finishing the adjustments of mechanical and electronic connections between the Bus and the interchangeable modular room. Skye woke up during transport. Fortunately, despite being somewhat startled by this situation, she remained calm. They all rode with her in the ambulance and Phil's calm words were enough to get her to fall asleep again. As it turned out, the most difficult thing during the whole transfer, was to keep Ward from freaking out.

May didn't have patience for that, Phil could see how torn she was between wanting to stand guard for Skye and fighting the urge to shut Ward up with a solid punch in the teeth. Jemma, on the other hand, was simply scared.

Coulson took it upon himself to sit next to Ward in the ambulance, near the door, keeping him away from both Skye and May, keeping an eye on his hands, that were continuously hovering between his guns and his knife.

"He'll know," Ward whispered at one moment. "He already knows."

"We're here to protect her," Coulson replied quietly. "He won't get past us."

Ward shook his head, his breath quickening. "Garrett always gets what he wants."

Coulson could see a question "which is what?" written all over Melinda May's face. She sat on the opposite side of the ambulance and glared at Ward and at Phil but Phis simply shook his head, to which she pursed her lips, shrugged and looked out the window.

Now was not the time to demand explanations. They needed to secure Skye, take off and be separated from the people, the threats, on the ground. Only then they would take Ward's full statement. However, what concerned Coulson most in this whole situation, was Ward's demeanor and whether his ability to act rationally was compromised. This man had highest combat scores, best espionage marks and yet, he was acting like he was... afraid. No, not afraid – terrified. Of his former Supervising Officer. Of the man Coulson knew and, frankly, liked. Or used to like and still had a lot of sentiment for, even though they hadn't really interacted much, for years now. Why would Ward fear him so?

"Fix me a mild sedative in drinking water," Coulson whispered to Simmons before he went to check on Skye. Earlier he'd ordered Ward to wait for him in the lounge upstairs. Simmons nodded solemnly.

May got them into the air and set an autopilot, then she let Coulson know she was available. Phil took the glass from Simmons, told her and Fitz to stay near Skye and make sure she had everything she needed and walked up the stairs. Before the door to the lab closed he heard Fitz's accusatory tone. "Now, there's going to be explaining." Indeed, there had to finally be some explaining.

Ward, surprisingly, waited on the couch when Phil entered the lounge. He was still in full assault gear, he sat, unmoving, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced and glared at the coffee table with unseeing eyes. Phil cleared his throat, announcing his presence. Ward half turned to him but didn't look up.

"I know you're here," he said.

"Good. Have some water." Phil placed the glass in front of him and a corner of Ward's mouth twitched. He took it and gulped down the content. He wiped his mouth and exhaled.

"Think it will help?" He chuckled mirthlessly.

"Won't hurt to try."

May neared them and they both took seats in the armchairs on either sides of Ward, May to his left and Phil to his right.

"So," Coulson started, "I think you need to fill us in now."

Ward sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"Who is the Clairvoyant?" May went straight to the point. Phil wouldn't have come up with a better question to ask.

Especially considering the answer.

"It's Garrett." Ward said it so quietly, Coulson had to check Melinda's expression to make sure she heard the same thing. She looked sufficiently surprised. If her thought process was anything like his – and he had reasons to assume it was; they would often come to similar conclusions – she would have figured that Garrett was associated with the Clairvoyant. But to actually be him? Well, that took a lot more mental gymnastics.

"He doesn't have any superpowers, though, does he?" Phil made sure he understood everything correctly. Although, considering Ward's fear of the man... Maybe something happened, at some point, that changed things. He thought he would know if it did, but then, he learned, in a painful way, that there were things above his clearance level. Garrett-Clairvoyant could be one of those things.

"No." Ward was still sitting in the same position, still staring ahead with unseeing eyes. "He has access to highly classified information, that's how he knows things about people, about where they are, with whom, for what purpose. From surveillance. That's how he's going to know Skye is on the plane." He turned to look at Coulson now. "If he doesn't already."

This could explain things, Coulson had to agree with that. It was clever, it was very clever. He remembered his interrogation, how Raina knew about his father, his defining moment, or about dinners at Richmond. Phil knew that nothing an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. did, went unnoticed. There were other things though, things that weren't in the reports.

"What about Skye?" he asked. Skye said something on their way from the mansion to the Bus, repeated words Quinn told her. 'What would hurt Coulson more than losing his fav girl?' And Ward said that Quinn followed an order form Clairvoyant. "How did he know I cared about her? How did he know about relationships on the plane?"

Ward was still looking at him with dark, hooded eyes.

"For that he had me," he admitted with a sad twist of his lips.

May stood up rapidly, hands curled in fists and glared at Ward with shock and reproof.

"You were spying on us?" she seethed.

Coulson felt something cold creep up his spine as he remembered May's confession from a week ago. As he remembered Ward talking about their relationship only yesterday, before shit hit the fan. As he couldn't use the word 'sex'. It wasn't just sex, then. But what the hell was it?

Ward, head bowed, laced and unlaced his long fingers.

"It was a job," he muttered. "I was following orders."

Melinda wanted to speak up but Coulson rose to his feet as well and put up a hand, attracting her attention.

"I think you should stay out of this conversation for now," he told her. "Ward obviously defected to our side and he doesn't need to be judged for his past sins at the moment. We'll have time to return to it later. Right now, you need to take a break; you are too emotional."

"Oh, you haven't seen me emotional, Coulson," May contradicted her own words with how she shook her head so hard, her hair flailed about. Coulson remained stoic and she pursed her lips. "Fine then!" She stormed out of the lounge and they could hear her angry steps on the stairs.

Coulson sighed and sat back down.

"What does Clairvoyant... Garrett... What does he want to achieve by killing Skye?"

"He doesn't want to kill Skye. He just wanted her to be critically injured, so injured that medicine would be helpless." Ward suddenly turned to Coulson with his whole body. "You have to understand, Garrett..." he hesitated. "He has a reason. All he ever wanted was to find out... How you were fixed."

"Me?"

"You were critically injured. You were dead for eight seconds, or for forty seconds, or for however long it really was and you were brought back. Without any lasting effects."

Phil glared at Ward as the realization of what all this really meant was finally hammered home by those words. May being used was one thing. This?

John Garrett used to be his friend. Phil respected John Garrett. When they had talked, a few months ago, about Ward, about Phil taking him in to 'smooth his rough edges', they had shared stories from their service together, way back when and they had laughed. Ward had came to his team as an ally, integrated with the team, pretended to be their friend as well.

For the sole purpose of gaining information. Phil felt bile rise in his throat.

"He had me kidnapped and tortured," he uttered through clenched throat. "And you knew about it."

Ward pulled back, his face contorted in disgust for a fraction of a second, smoothing into an indifferent mask in an instant. He swallowed hard.

"I didn't know he... I didn't know what he was going to do to you. I didn't know his plans for Skye, either. Until he told me to..." Ward choke. The indifferent mas was slipping away. "Quinn was supposed to do it and I eliminated him. He wanted me to correct my mistake." Ward wrapped his arms around his middle and rocked, a movement very small, very tense, his brows drawn together, like in pain. "I couldn't," he uttered. "I chickened out, I failed him. But you could help me." He looked up at Phil with hope. "If you just remembered what had happened to you then. If Skye was dying, wouldn't you do anything in your power to help her? You would. You would try to get to the bottom of this, find out how Fury saved you. Why did Fury save you? Why didn't he do the same thing for Garrett? He's a great man, he deserved this every bit you did. That's all he needs. To know how you were cured. Why do you keep it from him?"

Coulson couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"What part of kidnapped and tortured don't you understand?" he exclaimed, indignant.

"You used to be friends," Ward accused. "Is that how you treat a friend?" Phil just listened, his eyes growing wider, rendered speechless by Ward's argumentation. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't he be the one saying those words to Ward? To Garrett? "I helped you." Ward stood up, staggered a little. Wiped his face. "I let Skye live, I saved her from fate worse than death, from terrible pain, terrible suffering. Doesn't it count for something?"

"No." Phil watched him with growing terror. "I'm afraid this was exactly what you should have done. You did the right thing telling us, protecting her. That was the right thing to do!"

"No." Ward shook his head. "No, no, no." He walked around the low table, into the open area between the lounge and the command center. He ran his fingers through his hair. "It was the wrong thing to do. I betrayed Garrett's trust, trust of the only perso who... Of the person who risked everything for me, time and time again. I made a mistake. Maybe I should just..." He turned to Coulson, spread his arms. "What if I did what I was told? Maybe I should just go down there and damage her, like I was ordered to. What will you do then? Will you move heaven and earth to save her?" He swayed on his feet. The sedative Simmons put into his drink must have started working but it was not fully effective yet.

"May," Coulson tapped his earpiece. "I think you need to come up here. With a night-night gun."

"You're calling Cavalary?" Ward mocked. "I have guns too." He didn't reach for any of them. "I could shoot you before she came."

"I don't think you would do that," Coulson stated with more conviction than he actually felt. "I don't think you really want to hurt any of us. You're a good person and you care about us."

"I don't!" Ward screamed. Phil felt Melinda's presence behind his back and he lifted a hand, signalling her, 'not yet'. But then Ward reached for a gun, a real gun, not night-night gun. He shouted, "It's a weakness!" and...

May fired.

Ward staggered backward, his hand went limp and his knees buckled under him. He fell onto his back with a soft grunt.

"Great job," commented May.

* * *

"He's a triator." May's opinion on Ward was clear and simple.

They had locked him in the cell and now sat, four of them, in the lab, watching Skye asleep in the med pod on one of the monitors and Ward, also asleep, on the other.

"Technically," said Fitz, "if he worked for Garrett, spying on us, he's not a triator, because he was never on our side to begin with. Unless we count the fact that he betrayed Garrett to save Skye, then, yes he is a triator, but in our eyes it's a virtue, not a flaw."

Simmons nodded but remained uncharacteristically quiet.

"There's more to it." Coulson couldn't shake off the sense of dread that crept over him. "The things he was saying... He wasn't making any sense."

"What things?"

"Things like... I can't even repeat it." He needed to focus really hard to make any heads or tails from Ward's rambling. "That Garrett was a good guy, he said. A great man." He looked up at his friends one by one. He hoped they all would agree that such opinion on the Clairvoyant was an atrocity. "He had me kidnapped and tortured. No great person does that!"

"Not to mention that the Clairvoyant is involved with the Centipede program." Fitz nodded. "The creation of the supersoldiers-"

"Injecting people with the serum," added Simmons.

"And the eye thing," Fitz continued, "don't forget the exploding eye thing."

"Akela," Coulson breathed out as a thought dawned on him. They all looked up, mouth gaping.

"You think..." Fitz tried to voice what they all thought, eyes wide with horror. "Ward has one of those?"

"No." Coulson shook his head. "If he had, he would be dead already. But it is possible that he was brainwashed in some other way."

* * *

t.b.c.


	4. Chapter 4

**Early Enough**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

_"Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?" _  
**~Garth Nix, _Sabriel_**

* * *

When Grant woke up, the first thing he registered was head splintering pain. He cracked his eyes open a slit but light was too sharp. Laying still for a moment, he tried to remember how he ended up in this state and...

Memories came crashing down on him. Grant choked and curled up in pain around the expanding ball of emptiness in the place where his heart was supposed to be. Those memories hurt physically. And Grant couldn't even decide what hurt more – that he almost caused harm to Skye, or... that he didn't.

The consequences would be severe. The moment Garrett got to him – and he would, it was inevitable – he would give him hell. He would not only do good on his threat to Skye, he would do the same thing to Fitz and Simmons. He would most likely kill May, because she was too dangerous alive and he would maybe spare Coulson but only for as long as he would be needed to reveal the truth about his treatment. Garrett might just hurt Grant too, if he thought Grant mattered enough to Coulson.

The worst, though, the absolute worst punishment was the thing John wouldn't even mention aloud. He wouldn't have to. Grant already knew. He had failed John and the thought alone made him so disgusted with himself he wanted to throw up. He'd failed the only person in the world who had ever given him a helping hand. John was sick, dying and he counted on Grant's help, he requested nothing more than to ease his pain and suffering. And Grant proved, once again, that he was not worthy of John's trust.

"I see you're awake," a voice spoke and Ward sat upright, his back plastered against the wall, ready to take whatever punishment Garrett deemed fit.

But it was Coulson, not Garrett.

"Ward? Are you alright?"

Ward couldn't speak for a moment, then he remembered that he was supposed to be the best spy since Romanoff. He felt, almost physically, as the Grant Ward, Agent of SHIELD persona slipped onto him, like a well-fitting glove.

"I'm fine," he muttered and wiped his face, readjusted his features.

It's good. It's all good, he thought. He took in his surroundings, analyzing them for the first time. He was in a cell. It was good. He could tell Garrett that he'd gotten captured. That May had found him as he'd been about to do, what was necessary, to Skye and that this was the reason why they had taken off in such a hurry. The reason why they had taken him with them, arrested him. That was good. That was the story he would tell Garrett.

He was still gonna have to complete his mission, though. And in order to do that, he needed to regain Coulson's trust.

"I am alright." He looked at his superior and nodded. Coulson gestured to a table and two chairs, so Ward stood up, slowly. His head was still spinning and each heart beat reverberated inside his skull like a drum. He sat down with a sigh and accepted the offered bottle of water with gratitude. "Is Skye?..." he asked. Expressing concern for her was in accord with what Ward, Agent of SHIELD would say.

"She's in the med-pod downstairs." Coulson laced his fingers on the table and glared at Ward, his eyes dissecting. "She's well taken care of and on the road to full recovery. It's you I'm more concerned about." Ward bit his lips. He was half expecting this. Coulson being the good uncle. Coulson being fooled. He needed that and he needed to keep up the deceit.

Coulson took his time. He was clearly considering what to say, what questions to ask. Ward could almost see gears turning in his brain. "I need to understand this, Ward. You were followng Garrett's orders to infiltrate our team, is that right?"

"Yes." Ward decided that by being truthful, at least about the things Coulson already knew, he would best prove his honesty.

"Why were you following his orders?"

"Because he's... he was... I guess technically he still is," he suddenly wasn't sure. He was supposed to be Garrett's man. But was he supposed to tell Coulson that? "He was my superior officer. Now he's not." That was the correct answer.

"Were you being controlled?" This question caught Ward completely off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have an eye implant? I realize that if you do, you can't answer truthfully, but I also think that if you had an eye implant and you didn't follow orders, you would be dead already. Besides, you wouldn't have to come in direct contact with Garrett to receive those orders, right? So, no. It's not likely that you have such implant. Garrett doesn't know what you're doing at this very moment, does he?"

"No," Ward breathed out. No, Garrett didn't know. If he did... The thought made Grant gag. He felt so cold, he couldn't contain a shiver. He needed to get himself back together. He needed to pull himself under control, he was slipping and slipping was unforgivable. He had been through worse and he'd held his own, he just needed to call back to his training. He was fine. Garrett didn't know yet that he had jeopardized the whole mission.

"Good," Coulson continued. "Then you can be honest with me. Ward? Is there any other way he might control you?

Why was Coulson asking that?

"No, he doesn't control me."

"No memory altering machines were ever in use? No blackmail?"

"No."

"Then why were you following him?"

Grant looked up, surprised. "He was my S.O." He shrugged. "How was I supposed... not to?"

"Oh. Of course." Coulson ran his hand over his thin hair and nodded. "That makes sense. You thought he was a good guy, you had no reason to suspect otherwise." He sighed. "I didn't suspect anything either and I've known him for years."

Grant had a "he IS a good guy," on the tip of his tongue, but thought better of it. Obviously Coulson needed Grant to be on the same side of the fence regarding Garrett. He nodded without a word.

"I know this must be hard for you," Coulson kept talking and Grant barely heard him over the hum of blood in his ears. "You trusted him, looked up to him and he turned out to be someone who would shoot and torture others, subject people to unhuman experiments, in order to achieve his goals. Grant, I want you to know that I am proud of you. You realized that what you were involved with was wrong and you disobeyed that... That maniac." Ward felt that he was shaking. Coulson didn't seem to notice. "I wish it had happened earlier," his voice choke and Ward focused on his face. It was swimming before his eyes a moment ago, now he clearly saw Coulson trying to smile through tears. "But it's good that it happened now. I'm glad we have you on our side."

"Yeah," Ward replied and was surprised how even and calm his voice sounded. "I am happy to be on your side too."

"Good then." Coulson stood up. "Let's get you out of here." He gestured to the door and Ward heard a soft click of the lock. Someone, probably May, must have listened to the whole conversation from the control center. She deemed him trustworthy. They all believed him. He gained back their trust.

"You realize, of course," Ward said as they exited the cell and walked down the narrow corridor, "that I will have to get to Skye and do some damage in her."

Coulson came to a sudden halt.

"Excuse me?"

"If Garrett is to believe..." Ward hesitated. They agreed on this too, didn't they? "Garrett is supposed to believe I'm still on his side, isn't that... the idea?" He wasn't sure anymore. Was it only him who was supposed to believe it? Was he supposed to believe it, or was it supposed to be the truth? What was the truth? He looked up at Coulson, pleading with him to make things clear once and for all.

Before Coulson managed to articulate an answer though, May came right to them.

"We have company," she said in urgent tone. "S.H.I.E.L.D. demands we return the witness in the ongoing investigation to the officer in charge. A plane will be docking with us any minute. I gotta go to the cockpit."

Ward's heart begun to hammer in his chest but it was as if all blood flowed down from his head and pooled somewhere in his intestines. He felt about to vomit and unable to breathe at the same time. Garrett. A wall of the corridor slammed him in his back and he clawed at the padding.

"Ward. Ward!" Someone was yelling. He saw faces but they swam in front of his eyes, blurry and unrecognizable. "What's going on with him? Help me get him back to the cell. Fitz, get Simmons here, with a sedative. Yes, you need to give him a shot." And then everything went black.

* * *

"Fitz, Simmons, don't talk to him at all if you can. If there's no other way and he asks- Do not say anything unprompted, please, but if he asks, May found Ward in Skye's room attempting to hurt her and she incapacitated him. We have no idea why he was trying to do what he did. Oh, and have night-night guns at your side at all times and don't hesitate to shoot if necessary, we'll worry about explaining it later. Best lock yourselves in the lab."

Coulson was frantic. They didn't have much time; May could only feign turbulence for that long. Eventually the whole plane vibrated with a clear message that another aircraft attached itself to it. For a few long seconds Coulson clung to the hope that it wasn't Garrett.

Such hope was in vain. Garrett came and he wasn't alone.

"Agent Antoine Triplett," the officer in charge introduced his companion. "Trip joined me as my specialist after Ward came to your circus. Go secure the witness," he ordered and the younger man trotted down the stairs immediately. Coulson couldn't help but wonder if Garrett was doing the same thing with him, that he had done to Ward. The thing that would turn his stoic, strong specialist into a whimpering child now locked up in a cell. Coulson wonder if he could save one more soul from the clutches of a monster.

"Why are you here, Garrett?" he asked in a manner that, he hoped, was calm and polite. "I wanted my agent to be treated at the Hub. Is that suddenly not allowed?"

"She is a witness in an investigation, Coulson." Garrett's voice was just as calm and collected but his smile reminded Phil of a lizard. "I think she might know something. If she's well enough, I hope you wouldn't mind if I asked her a few question. Then I'll be out of your hair."

"I'll see how she's doing." Coulson walked down the stairs. May, thankfully, just emerged from the cockpit and stood in the middle of their living area at loose attention, not quite threatening but definitely not friendly. "You may wait here." Coulson gestured to the couch. "May will keep you company."

As he walked toward the stairs to the lab, he heard Garrett asking May a question and her voice replying in short, curt half-sentences.

They were about an hour away from the Hub. If they could keep Garrett from both Skye and Ward, they might yet get out of this unscathed. They only needed to deal with Antoine Triplett.

* * *

"Fitz, it was just a panic attack, that's all," Jemma was trying to get her restlessly pacing partner to stand still for a minute. She wanted to scream and melt down herself, but it was hardly time for such nonsense.

"I thought Ward didn't panic. Ever. Isn't that what he said the other day?" Fitz's arm shot up and about, as if waving it was supposed to evidence the truth in the words spoken.

Jemma sighed and massaged her temple. She was distraught herself. On edge from the moment Ward asked her to get Coulson, in a voice not his own. She hadn't slept too, for what felt like months. And now they were under a direct threat from the Clairvoyant and they were supposed to pretend they didn't know the Clairvoyant was the Clairvoyant. She really wasn't good at pretending.

A knock in the glass door to the lab frightened her so much, she turned around, night-night gun in hand, and squeezed the trigger even before she noticed who the attacker was. And long – a second – before she realized that she couldn't hurt him through the glass anyway.

The man on the other side, a bald guy with stylish beard, took a step back, his eyes wide and his brows rising almost to the top of his head.

"Whoa!" he put both his palms up. "I mean you no harm!"

"You won't get past us!" Jemma yelled, still aiming her gun at him, until Fitz came up to her and put a hand on it, forcing her to lower it to the ground.

He shook his head.

"It's alright, Jemma, he's a friend. Aren't you?" He turned to the man on the other side of the glass door.

"Sure!" The man smiled, showing his white teeth in a wide grin. His whole face smiled. A man who smiled like this couldn't be evil. Jemma still held the gun though, ready to put it up and fire again, if the stranger made any threatening moves. "My name is Antoine Triplett and Garrett, my SO, ordered me to secure the witness. That's all I wanna do."

At the name Garrett, Jemma was about to lift the gun but Fitz's palm held her in place.

"Sure," he said in a voice that might be conversational and friendly, but Jemma clearly heard hostile notes. "And why would you need to secure her? She's secure enough."

"Hey!" The guy on the other side furrowed his brow. "What are you guys doing? I'm not your enemy!" he exclaimed.

"We'll see about that," Coulson replied, as he descended down the stairs, a night-night gun in hand. "Fitzsimmons, open the door. We need to talk, Agent Triplett."

* * *

t.b.c.

**A/N:** Great thank you to everyone who favorited or followed, but most of all to those who reviewed. It really means a lot to me to know what you think about this story, even if it's only a short sentence. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Hey, lovlies! Sorry it took so long to update this chapter. I went into a few roadblocks, wrote myself into a corner and somesuch. I really wanted to include Triplett in the "family". Garrett, on the other hand, needs to be far away from Ward. I think I finally found the way out of this mess, thanks to a brainstorming session with lovely Vesprass Anuna. And awesome Captain Summer Day gave me a couple of great points on how to make Fitz more Fitzy.  
I hope the chapter works now. And that next ones will be coming at a better pace. :)_**  
**_

* * *

**Early Enough**  
**Chapter Five**

* * *

_"Don't confuse poor decision-making with destiny. Own your mistakes. It's okay; we all make them. Learn from them so they can empower you!" _  
** Steve Maraboli _Life, the Truth, and Being Free_**

* * *

Those people were bat-shit crazy. Garrett had warned Trip they might come across some issues, that Coulson had that paranoid streak to him, but apparently he made the whole team act like they were on some sort of crusade against the unknown enemy that hid in the shadows.

All Trip and Garrett wanted, was to ask Skye some questions about the mansion. Who was there? Who shot her? Why did they shoot her? Who was the mysterious person with a metallic leg? They were in charge of the investigation for crying out loud and Coulson snatched the only eye witness, without consulting anyone about this, and in a hurry. Garrett had told him that in case of trouble he would call on his man inside Coulson's team, Grant Ward. Triplett had heard enough about this guy from the people under Garrett's command to dislike him before even getting to know this walking legend – but he'd much rather meet Ward first, than those three crazies who stood in front of him right now.

At least the girl – Jemma? Was that what her colleague called her? She must have been Jemma Simmons and he was probably Leo Fitz, another legends, this time from Sci-tech Academy – wasn't holding a gun anymore. Those two, surprisingly, didn't strike him as vile. Simmons looked sheepish and had that air of honest innocence to her. Triplett couldn't really be mad at someone who looked at him with such large, apologetic eyes. The guy – Fitz – gave him glares from under a furrowed brow, trying so hard to appear menacing, that Trip felt involuntary smile creep up onto his face.

Then, there was Coulson and Coulson was a whole different story.

"Agent Triplett," he asked, when his younger subordinate locked the door behind them. "We don't have much time, so I need a quick answer. Do you trust your S.O. implicitly, or has there been anything in his behavior or actions that made you ever doubt him?"

Trip stopped for a moment, but not really to wonder about the question. Coulson had a gun trained at him. If the answer was wrong, he might earn a bullet where he didn't need one.

"Well..." He stalled for time.

"Honest answer, Agent. And sooner rather than later. Did you ever, even once, had a reason to doubt him?"

Didn't anyone? Each and every person made mistakes from time to time. Triplett wanted to ask Coulson's subordinates if they had never doubted their boss, but he bit his tongue. It wasn't reasoneble to get into a verbal contest with a superior.

And then something about their stance striked him. He looked closer at those two young people hiding behind Coulson. Behind. He stood front, shielding them. They were the scientists, so naturally they were not trained to fight, but still. A leader protecting his minions was an unfamiliar sight. And it shouldn't have been. This was what his grandfather had always taught him – a leader is responsible for the people under his command. It only took several months for him to forget that principle.

Triplett took in other details – the way they were both dressed, casually. Not that scientists had as strict uniform code as military personnell, but in Garrett's team everyone followed some sort of order. They should have worn lab coats at least. And – a more tangible difference – the scientists were definitely not afraid of Coulson, while everyone on Garrett's team feared the man in charge.

Garrett wanted to talk to Skye. It was Trip's job to make sure Garrett got what he wanted. That was how it worked.

At first – Triplett remembered – he hadn't liked it but then he'd gotten used to it. Then he'd started to appreciate the kind of training Garrett granted his people. If he allowed himself a moment of reflection though, he would remember it was not the kind of S.H.I.L.E.D. training his grandfather had talked about back in the day. Garrett had nothing to do with the principles that got him to join S.H.I.E.L.D. He simply tried not to dwell on it, pushed it to the back of his head, because that's where he was now, with Garrett, and if the higher-ups thought that was where he belonger, it was his duty to obey their decisions. To trust the system.

"Agent Triplett." Coulson's patience was running out. "Yes or no? We don't have time."

Triplett remembered one more thing. One that happened early on, so vague he could never confront Garrett about it directly but he felt in his gut that he had been mistreated.

"He acted somewhat like a racist there, for a moment, sir," he blurted. "But I don't have nothing specific, it was just that impression, you know."

"I don't need a proof, Agent Triplett. I already have a proof. Just your general... impression... will be enough." Coulson glanced at the stairs, as if checking if no one was coming. His younger colleagues followed his gaze in consort, like they were of one mind. Trip's unease spiked again, unwanted.

"Sir, I..." he stuttered. "I don't know. Garrett is my S.O. I shouldn't..."

"We will protect you from him, if things go wrong."

And there it was, the reason why nothing those people were saying made sense. Triplett already found himself wanting them to be right but how could he believe in something so absurd? Garrett had warned him about this. He had explained how, since his near-death experience, Coulson was falling deeper and deeper into paranoia, seeing enemies everywhere and poisoning everyone around him with suspicions and distrust. "You have to listen to what he says carefully and weed out truth from all the head trips," Garrett had said.

Coulson lowered his gun and came within touch distance to Triplett.

"We have a reason to believe Garrett is the Clairvoyant," he informed Trip in a low voice. "We think he wants to hurt Skye and we can't let that happen. But we need your help with that. Just to divert his attention until we get to the Hub. Will you help us?"

Triplett didn't know what to say. His training so far hadn't prepared him to talk to someone plagued with delusions. He had some theoretical knowledge about dealing with people who were under the influence of supernatural objects and that seemed to be as close to dealing with one loosing their mind as he would get. He decided to take that approach. First, do not antagonize.

He nodded and muttered an "okay," but before he managed to elaborate, he heard the muffled voice of his S.O. through the glass door. Despite the isolation, Garrett's anger was clearly discernible and Triplett felt strange cold. Fear. He wasn't afraid before. Despite Coulson acting like a maniac, his reservation had nothing on what he felt hearning displeasure in his S.O.'s voice. If Garrett even suspected he fell for Coulson's wacky ploy, he would have hell to pay.

The worst part was that he wasn't sure anymore what he wanted to believe.

He knew wanted to be able to talk to his grandmother about what he was doing in S.H.I.E.L.D. and so far he hadn't. If he told her about Garrett, it would break the old woman's heart.

Coulson hid his pistol behind the strap of his pants, under the jacket and signaled for Fitz to kill the live feed of Skye's med-pod on the screen behind them, then for Simmons to open the door.

"Oh, silly me," the scientist chirped. "It's a force of habit, really. Excuse me, Agent Garrett, please, come in." She was terrible at this. Her voice shook and her hands trembled and Garrett took her in with one assessing stare. Triplett knew instantly that his S.O. caught up with the game and his instinct screamed for him to protect this innocent girl. Possibly from both, Garrett and Coulson. Buying time seemed like the best option at the moment.

Garrett's gaze swept over everyone in the room and landed on Triplett, piercing, dissecting and Trip put on his best flamboyant face.

"What's going on here?" asked Garrett.

"You mean Skye? She's sleeping like a babe. Didn't have the heart to wake her." Trip smiled innocently. Garrett only narrowed his eyes. "We'll have the time to question her at the Hub. I mean she does need to recover, too." It felt strangely good to oppose Garrett. Damn, Triplett was secretly hoping that Coulson wasn't in fact crazy and that he would do good on that promise to protect him if things went south.

"Sure." Garrett bared his teeth but his eyes had enough fire in them, Trip barely contained the urge to protect his face from getting burned. His S.O. slowly took the few steps that separated them and put a hand on his arm. Trip had to put a conscious effort into not tensing up. Garrett smiled at Coulson. "May I see her?"

"What, you think she's not on the plane, or something?" Coulson asked, smirking and Trip just gaped. Coulson was mocking Garrett. Deliberatelly. He cast a brief glance at his S.O., who looked like he was about to steam out of ears, then back at Coulson. Who was still smirking.

Garrett reined himself in.

"There must be a reason why you are acting all queasy," he seethed. "Like you're hiding something, Phil. Are you hiding something?"

"No."

"Then why can't I see her?"

"You can. I just don't think it's necessary to do it right now. I really wouldn't like to wake her, she's been through enough and she needs all the rest she can get. Any commotion around her might be disturbing, that's all."

Silence that fell was so thick it could be cut with a proverbial knife. But Coulson didn't seem phased. Trip was beginning to admire the man. He was nothing like a crazy paranoic Garrett painted him to be.

And if Garrett lied and Coulson was actually speaking the truth... The implications were too appaling to consider. Clairvoyant had killed three of their men.

"Where is Ward?" Garrett launched at Coulson from another angle.

"He stayed behind. Didn't he contact you?" Coulson replied with infinite calmness

"No."

"He must have missed you then. I'll notify him to catch up with us at the Hub. Meanwhile I really suggest we go upstairs and have some coffee, talk about old times. You'll have a chance to speak with Skye as soon as doctors at the Hub clear her. Trip may stay here with FitzSimmons. They seem to have found a common tongue quite nicely." Coulson glared at the scientists, nodded at Trip in passing and gently removed Garrett's hand from the specialist's arm. "Shall we?"

Garrett knew better than to resist. At this point he was well aware that Coulson played him and arguing further would only reinforce whatever suspicions Coulson had. What was worse, Trip thought, was that he probably knew his man had a part in this. The concept of forgiveness didn't exist in Garrett's repertoire. Trip realized there was no turning back for him anymore.

If Coulson spoke the truth, he didn't even want to go back. The only friend he had in Garrett's team had died in a car bomb explosion two weeks ago.

When Garrett, Coulson and May disappeared upstairs, Triplett turned to the science duo.

"You're gonna tell me how you know that Garrett is the Clairvoyant, now."

* * *

Fitz knew the ins and outs of their predicament mostly from Jemma and from watching the feed of Coulson talking to Ward. Jemma was in no shape, at the moment, to explain anything to their guest; she had stayed at the hospital, while Fitz had returned here for the night and now she kept prattling incoherently. Fitz tried to send her back to her bunk and after some resistance – "but I need to keep an eye on Skye" – she gave up and used the backdoor ladder to climb straight to the sleeping area of the Bus. But not before making sure Fitz knew all the seventy eight instances in which he was supposed to wake her up immediately and bring to Skye's side, and returning five times because she was sure she forgot about something very, very important. Now Fitz stood in front of the monitor watching Skye sleep peacefully. There was no danger. Other than John Garrett of course.

"So, basically," Triplett scratched his neck, "you think Garrett is Clairvoyant, because Ward told you he is. After admiting that he had been a mole here, spying on you for the man, all this time. And you had no problem believing that."

Fitz shrugged. Trip would have to see it to understand, he'd have to know the man. Ward was as tough as they go, there was nothing that could break Ward. Damn, there was nothing that could make him bend a little. And this broke him. Fitz didn't tell Triplett as much. "We trust our own," he sputtered instead.

"But Ward isn't one of your own. He was spying on you."

"And he changed sides." Fitz fidgeted. He wanted to believe in Ward, Ward was their friend. And he saved Skye's life. He had told them about Garrett's plan and saved Skye's life. Only then, Coulson mentioned some nonsense about how Ward was still a threat to Skye, how he'd said he still had orders, but it'd been gibberish. And they hadn't had the time to sit down and hear him out, because Garrett showed up. That he didn't tell Triplett either.

Why couldn't they simply shoot Garrett? Not kill, but with a night-night gun? He would be much less trouble this way. Oh, probably because they had no proof that Garrett was the Clairvoyant, other than Ward's confession and that was unreliable beacuse apparetnly Ward was not emotionally stable right now.

"Can I speak with Ward?" Trip asked. "Where is he really? I assume he is right here on the plane."

"You are so smart, aren't you?"

Triplett smirked and shrugged in answer. Fitz really, really didn't like him.

What were they going to do with him now? He technically betrayed Garrett just like Ward had and who knew what this man, this monster, Clairvoyant, was able to do to people who betrayed him. Was Triplett honest though? Or was he only playing them, to stab them all in the backs afterwards? Who could they trust?

"Why does this gun have that funny barrell?" Trip changed the subject, picking up the night-night gun Fitz mistakenly put on the holotable. He released the magazine and eyed it curiously. "And blue bullets? Are you hunting vampires or something?"

"Hey, hand's off!" Fitz ran around the holotable and Trip took a step back, his smirk turning into a full-on grin. He lifted the gun up and Fitz refrained from making a total fool of himself and didn't instantly jump him. "Night-night pistol is a delicate piece of weaponry, you muppet. You'll muck it up!"

"Night-night pistol? Seriously? What does it do? Lull you to sleep?"

"Pretty much. Give it back."

"It's a silly name."

"Yeah? Funny coming from you, _Antoine_. I'll take your feedback uder consideration next time I invent something to save your arse!"

They stood in front of each other, Fitz fuming, Triplett smirking, when suddenly Trip's eyes darted behind Fitz's back and his face turned serious.

"Oh, you better not say there's a three headed monkey..." Fitz started, but curiosity took the better of him anyway, he glanced behind back and voice died in his throat.

There, on the live feed from Skye's med-pod he saw Garrett nearing her bed.

"Ska..." he spun back, but Triplett was no longer standing in front of him.

If hasty steps were any indication, Trip ran to Skye's med-pod. Before Fitz caught up with him, he heard a familiar hiss of a night-night gun, a groan and a thud. Breathless, he squeezed behind Triplett and all dislike and distrust he felt for the new member of their team evaporated at the sight of an unconscious Garrett.

"I guess now we have an irrefutable proof," said Triplett turning to him.

* * *

t.b.c.

**A/N:** Comments make me a happier writer. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Early Enough  
****Chapter Six**

* * *

_"Sometimes you have to ride over the bumps in the road to avoid running off a cliff. Other times you may have to fall into the potholes to avoid hitting the trees."_  
**~Eugene Nathaniel Butler **

* * *

Letting Ward out of the cell was a risk and May would have told Coulson that, had she been with him when he had made the decision. Alas, she had been in the cockpit, maneuvering the Bus through the Hub airspace and to the landing approach. Yes, Bus had automatic systems but with the smaller plane attached to her upside it was safer to have human at the stick, if course-correction was necessary in case of the unexpected.

Of course the unexpected had happened onboard the plane the moment she'd left Coulson alone with Garrett. From what she later gathered, Simmons had panicked. She'd remembered that she should have monitored Ward's vital signs after giving him tranquilizers, but in all the rush, the Clairvoyant's threat and her being half-conscious from exhaustion – she had neglected that duty.

She had needed Coulson to let her into the cell. So Coulson had left Garrett unattended for three seconds total.

At least that move had given Garrett the opening to make a mistake and to the great relief of them all, Agent Triplett had done the right thing. Then, Coulson had decided that keeping a knocked-out Garrett contained until they would have landed and could give him to the authorities, took precedence over restraining Ward. Besides, he had argued, Ward was one of their own and he wouldn't hurt them. He had argued that he could talk sense into Ward.

Meanwhile he left May in charge of said talking.

Simmons had given Ward a cup of steaming chamomile tea and a plate of biscuits but he touched neither. At least her worry about possible side effects of the medication had been unfounded as it turned out that the dose she'd given him had been too small rather than too large and he had already been awakened when she and Coulson had opened his cell. They'd let him out and sat him in the dinette and when May had landed, Coulson asked that she remained with Ward and Fitz and Simmons who kept running between the dinette and Skye's med-pod – "No, Garrett didn't have the time to do any damage," – while he and Agent Triplett had gone into the Hub, to turn Garrett over to the higher ups.

Ward, from what Simmons reported, had only asked two questions since he'd been let out. "What are you going to do with me?" and "What's gonna happen to him?" referring to Garrett. He hadn't reacted to Simmons's "I don't know," to the first question and Coulson's, "We're gonna hand him over. We have a proof now," to the second one.

"You should at least drink your tea," Simmons said tiredly. "It is completely cold by now." She reached to touch the cup standing in front of Ward and nodded. "Like I said, completely cold. I'll make you a new one." She grabbed it and went to the kitchenette.

Ward remained still, slightly hunched, hands on his lap, staring at the wet trace of the mug on the table.

"He's not gonna stay locked up long," he spoke, startling them all. Fitz actually jumped and glared at Ward with furrowed brow. He opened his mouth to blurt out something but May controlled herself first

"What do you mean?"

Ward shook his head. "He knows people. In all the high places. You really have nothing on him."

"He threatened Skye."

"Did he?" Ward looked up at her, and only thanks to her ingrained ability to withhold any bodily reaction, May didn't recoil. His eyes were bleak, empty, like the eyes of a dead man. Out of the blue, a memory of the way he looked at her during sex resurfaced. It was scarily similar but it had satisfied her then, this lack of commitment on his part, she hadn't needed the complications brought on by feelings, by desire. Now the look in his eyes made her heart race – not with longing but with dread. "Did he have a gun, a knife?" Ward asked in a low voice, then shook his head as if answering himself. "He didn't harm her and he sure as hell knows how to harm without leaving a single trace leading back to him. If there was no harm... There's nothing you can prove."

"We have your confession."

"It's worth nothing. My word, against his..." Ward twisted his lips in a mock smile and shook his head. Then he dropped his gaze to his hands. "Besides Coulson didn't ask me to testify," he said in a voice so quiet, May had to strain her ears to hear the words.

"And when he asks," she tried but she was afraid she already knew the answer, "will you?"

Simmons returned with fresh tea and hesitated. Glanced at Ward, at May, then at Ward again. Bit her lips and put the cup in front of him.

"Are you warm enough?" She sat on the stool next to him and touched his palm. He tensed and his breath quickened, nostrils flared. "Sorry. Do you need me to get you a blanket? Your hands are ice-cold."

"I'm fine."

"Are you still loyal to him?" May needed to ask this question. She wasn't sure the answer she would get would be truthful but she needed to see his reaction.

Ward looked up at her again and shrugged. He had the audacity to shrug.

"I should be," he said, then averted his gaze again. "I want to be. He's like a father to me, I owe him everything." His voice broke.

"What do you owe him?" Simmons cut in, sounding offended on his behalf. "From the way you talk about him I'd say you are afraid of him! Is that how you're supposed to feel toward your father?"

May wanted to curse her for interfering but something in Ward's face, a genuine surprise at her outburst, made her stop and watch closely instead.

"Did he ever hurt you?" asked Fitz like it was something strange, some concept from another reality.

Ward turned to Fitz now, with a matching expression of confusion and disbelief. He didn't reply, instead, after a brief staring contest he focused on the tea cup, reached for it and lifted it to his lips in a very deliberate move. Tea was steaming but if it scalded his mouth, he didn't seem to notice. He placed it back on the table, carefully in the same spot and exhaled.

"I am not afraid of John," he said slowly, not looking at anyone. "If he had ever hurt me, it was only to teach me, to make me stronger. I am grateful for it. He helped me, he cared about me. He's the only person who ever gave a damn. He gave me a chance, saved me." Ward looked up now, looked at May and she had never seen so much pain in another person's eyes. She had only seen that kind of torment once. Before she'd broken a mirror. "I love him," Ward told her. "And I would do anything for him."

"Even kill us?" May knew ways to make people bleed. Both physical and emotional. Right now she felt repelled by that ability, because despite her anger, her fury at Ward's betrayal – that wasn't technically a betrayal as Fitz pointed out – this was still the man she cared about mere two days ago. She didn't want to be the one to cause him pain. But she had to. This needed to be done, she needed him to hurt more than he ever had. She needed that pain to wake him up, to snap him out of it. If he could snap out of it, if it really was not his true self. "If Garrett ordered you to kill Fitz, would you do that?" she demanded and Ward cast an involuntary glance at Fitz, uttering a muffled sob. "If he ordered you to put down Simmons?" He turned to the biochemist now, his breath quick and ragged. "You refused to kill Skye." May leaned in closer. "You protected her from him. And you know there will be consequences. You disobeyed an order and now you lie to yourself thinking you can somehow go back. But you can't. And you have to make up your mind, Ward. You have to decide if you're loyal to Garrett out of love for him, or out of fear. Because if it's the latter, then you can walk away. You can set yourself free. But if it's the former, you can only go and rot in that prison, along with him."

Ward looked up. He was still breathing fast and his eyes were shining and he was shaking, his entire body trembled and he was not such an awesome specialist and spy now.

"You have no idea," he seethed. "I have just told you; he's not going to stay in prison. And when he gets out, what happens to me is the least of your worries. Because he's going to come after you." He slowly raised from his seat, unfolded his tall form and loomed over her now, even though she stood up as well. He wasn't threatening though, May was not afraid of him. He was pathetic. And then he wasn't. "That's why I'm afraid. For you. Not for myself, because I'm..."his voice failed and then he added brokenly, "but for you."

"That's enough!" Jemma Simmons cut in and when May glanced at her, she saw tears streaming down the girl's cheeks. "He needs to rest." The biochemist's hands hovered near Ward's arms, over his shoulders, never quite touching them. "Please, Ward, you should go to your bunk and lay down. And I need to check your vitals and then I need to go and check Skye's vitals and give her medications, so let's not make this unnecessarily long, alright? Ward?"

Even if Ward was about to resist, the mention of Skye placated him. He nodded and sidestepped around his stool. He swayed. Fitz was right there to catch him and Simmons finally put her hand around his waist. Ward paused and with something like an apology on his face, twisted away from their excessive helpfulness. This was a man who valued his personal space, May had sensed that each time they had been intimate and she had appreciated that. She had wanted that. She had even thought she dictated that style of their physical encounters. It wasn't true, though, it had been Ward and May was beginning to figure out why. Someone this wary of bodily contact must have had his boundaries violated often and in a brutal way.

* * *

Ward felt his head swimming, thoughts jumbled, thrown together at random and not making any sense. He was afraid of John, of course he was but that was because John was magnificent. You can't not be afraid of someone who's larger than life. Like God he didn't believe in. Didn't believers fear His wrath? He punished the wicked, He brought floods and pestilence upon the sinners, he destroyed cities, wiped out armies...

"Just try to relax," he heard a quiet, sweet voice from a great, great distance.

Simmons's face swam into his field of vision.

"Was I talking ?"

"You were muttering." She looked concerned. "Listen, I know you're upset and anxious, but there's still quite a lot of barbiturates in your system and I wouldn't dare give you any more medications. Your blood pressure barely registers and your heart rate is all over the place. I think if you just let it, those meds will help you fall asleep. And once you're rested, maybe it will all be easier to understand."

He didn't want her to worry. He didn't want her to get hurt. Why did Coulson have to ivolve her in this? All of them, so young, so brilliant, so passionate. They reminded him of... They didn't deserve to get hurt in the crossfire.

"I've got to go to see Skye."

Ward grabbed her hand, suddenly fully alert.

"Don't let her be taken to the Hub. Keep her here, take care of her here."

"Don't sit up."

"Or best yet, get away from here. Take the plane and hide some place safe. There must be such place that no one but Coulson knows."

"Ward, please." She pushed him, made him lie down and he he knew it was hopeless. He had no more fight left in him. He just wanted them to be safe but he was the one who put them at risk in the first place and he had no right to feel bad about it now.

Simmons kept her hand on his shoulder for a long time but then she wasn't there anymore and Ward heard Garrett's voice. Garrett was talking with Coulson just outside his bunk. No, but Coulson was supposed to take him to the Hub, hand him over to Fury. Except that Fury used to be Garrett's S.O., Garrett and Coulson used to work together and now, apparently Garrett convinced Coulson that he was not the bad guy in all this, maybe he even told Coulson that it was all Ward, that Ward was the Clairvoyant, that he lied. He might have done it.

Ward peeked out of his bunk carefuly but there was no one in sight, they must have gone some place else. Who could he turn to? May? She hated Garrett. When they talked, she appeared to really despise him and she wasn't an easy person to turn. Cockpit then. Ward went there, quietly, looking around, wary of any unexpected sounds. Slowly and soundlessly he opened the door and saw the back of her head, as usual, in the pilot seat.

"May," he whispered and she turned and... smiled at him with Garrett's mocking smile.

Grant took a step back and slammed the door shut. His heart raced but he felt cold. Where was May? Why was Garrett piloting the Bus?

He told them to take the Bus some place safe, to hide Skye but not like this, they were supposed to hide her, themselves, from Garrett, not with him. Skye... Skye was not in the med pod. The med pod was empty. Ward ran to the lab, he needed to find Simmons and Fitz and ask them where Skye was but in the lab he found Garrett again. Garrett in a lab coat and Simmons's green protective glasses on his forehead.

"Is there a problem?" Garrett asked with British accent.

Grant ran up the stairs and to Coulson's office. But instead of Coulson, he found one more Garrett there.

"You thought I would leave you? You matter too much to me. You shouldn't have betrayed me. You should wake up. Wake up, Ward!" Garrett pleaded with Fitz's voice. "Wake up now. There. You're safe, okay? You're safe. It was just a bad dream." Fitz hovered over him and Grant felt the burning, sucking void in his chest, his throat so constricted, drawing in a breath required superhuman strength. His shoulders sunk into his ribcage and his head felt like a huge, empty pumpkin, lolling from side to side. Shapes moved before his eyes, distorted, unfocused.

"He's not here," he heard someone whisper. "He's not here, is he?"

"No," Fitz spoke to him for some reason. "He's not here. He's under lock and key, like Coulson promissed. They took him to the Fridge and that's where they are going to interrogate him. You don't need to worry. He's never getting out of there."

Ward looked at Fitz with disbelief and immense guilt where he should have felt relief. Fitz didn't need to know that though. Fitz's face was bright with joy and hope and faith that now things were going to turn out alright. And they probably were, for them. Grant felt relief for their sake, if Garrett would really end up locked up in the Fridge forever, then Fitz and Simmons and Skye and May and Coulson would be safe.

But he... He betrayed the only man who had ever given him a chance. How was he supposed to live with that?

* * *

t.b.c.

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all the appreciation I receive for this story. It really matters a lot. :)


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